AIRPORT

AIRPORT

I seem to need to travel way more than I really want to lately. I have a rule, if the trip can be made by car in 5 hours or less, I’m driving, that’s all there is to it. That way, I’m the pilot, and I can leave when the heck I want. However, If the trip requires 5 hours or more, I’m usually booking a flight.

I think by now my car knows its way to the airport on auto pilot, and I hate airport travel days. They usually start off with me having to get up at o’dark thirty to get ready. Then I have a one hour drive to the airport, but of course I need to be there 2 hours early so that I can get go thru “security”. So the night before I always find my self doing that special airport reverse math. Let’s see…If my plane leaves at 7A.M. then I have to be there 2 hours early. Now allowing for a one hour drive to the airport and an hour to get ready, then I have to set my alarm for 3 A.M….hold on a minute here...wait…Let me do that math again…I was going to pack in the morning…

As you approach the airport traffic slows down to a crawl as you merge in with all the other idiots that had to get up a 3:30am so they could “make it on time”. Now your putting along at a good 5 mph, with all the excitement of a slow speed O.J. Chase, behind all the old farts deciding which lane they really want to be in. It usually takes a few minutes to find a spot in long term parking. Long term parking is an anachronism for “the next town over”, but don’t forget to bring a separate bank roll to pay the man in the booth that has your car hostage. Just be ready to re-mortgage the house, when you try to leave the parking area after your trip. Then you have to take a mini-trip on some type of bus, train, tram, or circus animal to get to the “main terminal”.

Ok, so now you’ve finally reached the main terminal after several hours of your trip or vacation and you have to go thru the cattle pens at the ticket counter. I don’t really get this part of the ritual, you are forced to stand in line again to get your boarding pass and drop off your luggage. Any, they give you a ticket and send you back packing halfway to the long term parking area to get to your “gate” .. which usually requires another train, or tram trip, a series of elevators, a team of pack mules, and several of those “motorized walkways”, were you are all but guaranteed to catch a communicable disease if you touch the handrail.

But before you can get to your gate you must go thru the security and delousing station. Here you are subjected to showing your ticket and I.D. another dozen times, while you halfway disrobe, and place all that is near and dear to you in disgusting plastic trays, while you walk barefoot on the Dr, Shoals haz-mat and athlete’s foot transmission carpet.

If you are really lucky you will be pulled aside to be “wanded” and striped search or sent thru that special modern day equivalent of a blood hound, the “scratch and sniff machine”. Once inside the machine blows a powerful jet of air on you in the hope of dislodging some forbidden scent. At the same time they are swabbing your carry-ons while busting the latched on your designer luggage.

Wow, what an ordeal, but now you can proceed to your gate where you can wait the remainder of the one hour and 47 minutes till your flight allegedly is to depart. As you stroll past the newsstands the smell of fresh Cinnabons fills your nostrils, you know, you have finally arrived Gate #3. Just as you sit down with your $12.95 Starbucks coffee, you hear an announcement that there has been a gate change and your flight will now be departing from Gate #297, on the other side of the airport. Well you have some time so you stop at the local watering hole for a quick drink or two. Maybe its your lucky day because you sit next to a couple of great looking women and a obviously inebriated guy in uniform and you buy them all a few drinks and really get drunk together…party…party.. only at the airport.

Wow, what kind of sicko starts drinking before breakfast? Anyway, at this point, I’m re-thinking my decision to fly vs. drive. Heck I’ve already walked half the distance to where I was going by now anyway. The only advantage of all this pre-flight activity is the fact that you get to people watch. You get to see, all kinds of people going to all kinds of places, for a wide variety of purposes. There is the business man heading to a meeting with a far off client, the family.. ready for their vacation experience, and the crying baby that you hope doesn’t sit next to you for the 6 hour flight.

Anyway, you now arrive at your new gate, with only minutes to spare before the flight, and as you look out the window, it becomes evident that the most important part of you air travel experience is missing. That’s right, you guessed it.. no airplane…your flight has been delayed because it was raining in Minnesota.

Sure your disappointed, but if you really think about it, it’s just like loosing in Las Vegas, its all part of the game. Besides, no one seems more unhappy about the whole thing than the guy over there sobbing in the corner. As he looks up at you and sheds a small tear, you recognize him from back at the bar, little did you know then, he was your pilot for the trip… Well it’s all part of travel and your fun day at the airport, so sit back, rest a spell, and go ahead and have that Cinnabon you’ve been trying to avoid all morning, your flight has been overbooked anyway.

P.I.B.

MOUNTAIN MAN

MOUNTAIN MAN
I Just spent a few relaxing days on Big Bear Lake in California. The scenery and history of the place is captivating. Perched at 7000 foot above sea level, in an idyllic site, Big Bear’s picturesque scenery shows some of God’s best handwork. The manmade lake, nestled between the mountains, is a mile wide and 7 miles long, speckled with thousands of small pleasure boats, beautiful cabins and homes, and it is the centerpiece for a mountain community surrounded by tall trees, huge boulders and mountain peaks. Located only a few hours from California’s coast, the area attracts the rich and famous from both the beach towns and Las Vegas.
One can only wonder how this place looked a few hundred years ago, and they men who first lived here. The local tale, speaks of a hunter who shot a large grizzle bear, and then followed the wounded animal for miles thru a pass, until he came upon this natural paradise. (it’s also said he discovered a gold mine worth untold millions..talk about your Jed Clampit luck)
The original inhabitants braved the cold winters, as well as attacks by Indians and grizzly bears. They hunted, trapped, fished and lived off the land. I found myself mesmerized as I looked out the cabin window at the tranquil lake, and soon I was fast asleep at the keyboard…..
***DREAM SEQUENCE****DREAM SEQUENCE***
My canoe sliced effortlessly thru the water, with the wind at my back, as I drifted silently across the lake (ok the lake wasn’t made quite yet, until they built the dam..I’m using literary license here). The small rocky cove up ahead looked like a good place to make camp for the night. My supplies had run low, and my priorities were to make a fire and try to find some small game to feed my growling stomach. In my inexperience, I carried with me only an axe, a long gun, some basic mining tools, a few food provisions and my trustee bowie knife.
Somehow I felt this was my destiny to come here. I’ve always been loaner but now I’m questioning my motives for this trip. The quiet and desolation of this place is a little unnerving.( I owe it to myself to spend a weekend in Vegas when I finish up here. Its only 3 or 4 hours away…I guess a little more, if cars havn’t been invented yet)
I’ll admit, that aside from some short canoe trips, I’m no mountain man. Yet I find myself strangely drawn to this place by both its natural beauty and the allure of finding gold. It only now has occurred to me that just surviving up here alone would be my greatest challenge.
The days are mild but the nights can become very cold. Fortunately there is abundant wood for fire making and plenty of good clean mountain water. I’ve been lucky but there are also days where my traps and hunting efforts have gone unrewarded.
Well I’ve been here for a couple of weeks now and built myself a small log lean to, for protection from the weather (thanks to my word processor, I can go back and add an axe to my meager supplies I bought with me). I’ve found this to be a harsh life, spending half my day prospecting for gold and the other half just supporting my survival. Most days have had little reward for me, except for the privilege of sharing this wonderful place with the birds and animals.
I’ve done better than I had expected up here but I’ve made a few costly mistakes that almost cost me my life. I’ve learned from experience that even a minor injury in these mountains can stack the odds of survival decidedly against a man. The other night I got lazy and left the fish heads and remains from my evening meal too close to my camp. I was awakened by the sounds of a large grizzly that didn’t like the fact that I was in close proximity to his newly acquired meal. I could see his shadow in the flickering light of the fire. The bear had long since smelled me, and charged, swatting me to the ground with one swipe of his huge paw. The massive claws ripped thru my blanket and clothing, tearing away at my flesh. I heard the bone in my arm crack as I offered what little resistance I could offer. Fighting back was futile, I was resolved to accept my fate. I laid there dazed and near lifeless, face down in the dirt, cut, bit, broken and bleeding. I was fortunate because for some unknown reason the bear decided that finishing his food was more important that finishing me. I laid there hunched up in the fetal position, frightened, dazed, and wounded for what seemed like hours before crawling off to tend to my wounds.
After a few days of healing I decided that maybe this whole mining idea was not for me. The desolation was starting to get to me, and winter was right around the corner so, I packed up the camp, took one fond look back at the lake, and thn headed back west. Yes..I was Hollywood bound, to pursue my other great (and safer) loves….acting and surfing…..
P.I.B.